SpiderMan: Origins
by SpiderBen
Summary: A book showcasing the origins of Spider-Man and some of his greatest foes.
1. In The Begining

Spider-Man: Origins

It was a windy day. Rainy, too. The nerd was getting picked on . . . just like always.

"Parker, get your pansy rear-end over here!" screamed Flash Thompson, football team captain at Midtown High. Leading bully, too.

Parker was a young man. His first name? Peter. He'd had a hard life. His parents died in a plane crash when he was just six. And now this? Would he ever be popular?

"No!" Peter ran, but it did him no good. His skinny legs were no match for the muscle-bound quarterback.

"Gotcha, ya little runt!" Flash grabbed Peter by the tail of his shirt. Peter began to wonder why he didn't tuck it in.

"Please," begged Peter, "just let me go!"

"Not a chance, suirt," replied Flash. He forced Peter against one of the four cafeteria walls and stuck his hand near Peter's backside. He came up with a fistful of underwear.

"Nice, Petey, love your FTLs," Flash laughed. The whole cafeteria joined in. Couldn't Peter go without this humiliation for just one day?

Peter shook off Flash's hold and ran to the bathroom. When he got there, he looked into the mirror.

As he gazed, he thought, _"Why me? Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I have to be Flash's chew toy! . . . Does it?"_

A brown-haired man gazed at some lab rats.

"The performance enhancers seem to be working."

He strolled around to where a balding, nervous, plump scientist was sitting. "What do you think?"

The plump one spoke up. "Mr. Osborn . . . this is insane. Look at the mice fight each other day after day. Do you really think that that's just their nature? The serum did that to them."

Mr. Osborn just smiled a little. "Dr. Stromm. It doesn't matter what you think. I want to see your resignation on my desk."

"But --"

"Right after the human trial."

Doctor Stromm grimaced. He knew he was helpless in this situation. He knew that Osborn held all the cards. Still, he could try to defend himslef. "You -- you can't do that!"

Osborn smiled again, and knit his brows. "Oh, but, Doctor Stromm. I can."

Peter walked up to a girl. She was a pretty blond, way out of Peter's league, and he knew it. Still, he wondered if she might have some sympathy and let him take her to dinner. He was pretty sure Sally Avril wouldn't let him do that. But he was two steps away from her now.

"Umm . . . Sally?"

Sally looked up. The way her blond hair shone in the light made her look even prettier than before, which made her reply more harsh to Peter, captivated by her.

"WHAT, nerd?" she asked, rather indignantly, indicating that this wouldn't be Peter's smartest choice ever.

"I, uh, I just wanted to know if you had a date for tonight?"

"IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU!?" Sally's reply came across to Peter like cold water, waking him up from the dream world where she would say "yes."

The whole school looked across the hall, where they were standing beside Sally's locker. No, it certainly wasn't his smartest move ever.

"Go ahead, Doctor Octavius."

A metal arm with three claws on the end reached for a lever on the control panel.

"Of course, Mr. Osbron," a thick German voice intoned. The German voiced man was plump with a haircut that looked like it had gone out in the 1920s. He had around his waist a metal harness, with four of those arms coming out of either side. He seemed to be controlling them with his hands. He made a grabbing motion with his hand. The claw grasped the lever.

Dr. Stromm was also in the room. He watched nervously as the lever was pulled down.

Norman Osborn, for the first time in eighteen years, looked scared. "Stromm. Turn on the gas."

Dr. Stromm sat with a blank look on his face and didn't move. Dr. Otto Octavius threw his arm towards the computer keyboard, saying, "Must I do everything myself?" He hit the key.

A young man with blond hair was sitting on a park bench. He had just come from Dr. Connors' Empire State University lab. The scene replayed in his mind.

"Brock, treat this spider."

"Yes, sir. Darn spider, stay still!"

Brock had grabbed the spider (with gloves on) and subjected it to enormous amounts of radiation in his anger. Dr. Connors told him to go home and chill out.

As that drama faded out of his mind, a new one crept into the night with a bang. An explosion rocked the starry sky. It appeared to come from OsCorp Industries.


	2. Learning New Things

Black. That was all he could see. Black. No, no wait, was that-- black. Something?-- something brown? Something-- his hair. He got up. He could not remember where he was. The it found it's way back into his brilliant mind. He had hit the computer key with his smart-arms. Then?-- boom. He needed help. What-- what was wrong? Something felt different. Like he had new arms. Wait-- he just thought, and-- and, the smart arms moved! He thought them into moving the rubble he was under. They did.

"Incredible." A smile curled around his lips. He walked out on his arms with evil intentions in his heart.

The computer screen was blinking words: "Unavailable amount of brain damage will have occured to all in eruption."

"This is ridiculous," Peter muttered to himself. He was riding on a school bus to his most anticipated event of the year, his science trip to Dr. Curt Connors' labs at ESU. But, this was ridiculous. Riding there, he somehow got stuck beside Flash Thompson.

As Peter's class walked in, he heard some distant talking. No, more like whispering.

"Brock, what did you do with that spider?"

"Doc, I dunno, I told you, I slammed the door shut on the radioactivity thing, then after about five minutes, got it out and chunked it!"

"Well, that was smart, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry, I was pi--"

"Oh, no, the class is here. Try to find that arachnid and dispose of it!"

Dr. Connors walked out to greet the class. He was about six feet tall, maybe more, with wavy brown hair. He had a missing arm, as well, and he seemed a little worried.

"Hello, class. I'm Dr. Connors, and I will show you around. Shall we?" He motioned for the class to step into the lab.

"This is the lizard cage. Did you know that lizards can regenerate lost limbs withing an hour? I'm particularly interested in that healing process . . . for obvious reasons." He looked sadly down at the arm that was no longer there.

"This is the spider cage, which offers a unique style of, well, web-spinning wonders! Please be careful, as one of these specimens may be loose."

That's what Peter didn't see. He was so busy looking around at all the high-tech equipment, he didn't notice the almost invisible strand of thread that was carrying the tiny spider.

"Aggh!" he suddenly cried, casting a fleeting glance at his hand. Nothing was there but a bite mark.

"What's wrong?" asked Dr. Connors urgently.

"Aggh, oh my hand got bit, agghh!" Peter felt like he would puke.

"Oh, God, it must have been the escaped specimen!" yelled Eddie, who was looking for it on the floor.

"Get him to the hospital, quick!"

Those were the last words Peter heard before seeing stars.

"Pete? Petey, you comin' around?"

Peter awoke to see an old man with graying hair in front of him. He turned his head. On the other side sat his Aunt May. So the man was--

"Uncle Ben?"

"Hooray, he's awake!" yelled Uncle Ben.

"Yeah, I guess I am," grinned Peter as he sat up, "man, I-- aggh!" He fell back down onto the pillow.

"Oh, no, what's wrong?" asked Aunt May.

"Oh, I don't know, I-- I guess it's just a headache." Peter yawned, then glanced at the doctor. "Can I go home now?"

"Yes, you should be good by now," the doctor replied. "Hope not to see you soon." He smiled as the nurse opened the door.

At home, Peter went to his makeshift lab.

"Man, I . . . I feel weird," he thought to himself.

"Peter!" Aunt May's voice carried through the house.

"Yeah?"

"Would you run over to Mrs. Smith's for me? She knows what I need."

"Okay."

Peter walked out the door and just across the street, when all of the sudden, his head started to tingle. Not a headache, just a-- tingle.

"Hey, kid watch out!"

Peter jumped out of the way of the car just in time. Then he noticed something. He was sticking to the wall.


	3. Face Off

Peter was taken aback. Was he really doing this? Sticking to a wall?

"Whoo! I am!" he cried, leaping off.

"Again, this is our newest breaking story. We have just recieved word that an unidentified flying object is going crazy around Manhattan. One witness claims, 'It looked a lot like that glider that OsCorp Industries has been advertising.' Please stay clear of the area where the alleged 'glider' was seen. we now return to--"

"Yeah, sure," said Uncle Ben. He sat beside Aunt May on the couch.

"Well, I don't know," Aunt May replied. "I've heard about this before."

"Where?" asked Uncle Ben sarcastically. He was a graying man, with glasses and an unresistable smile.

"Umm . . . on the Tattle channel." Aunt May was a nice woman with hair that used to be blond, turned white, and she was always worried about something.

Uncle Ben started guffawing. "Ha-ha, May! You can't believe anything they say on that channel!"

May looked worried. "All I'm saying is, I hope Peter isn't out too late."

Just then they heard the door open, and a voice calling, "Honey, I'm home!"

Aunt May was relieved. "Oh, Peter, dear, where have you been?"

Now it was Peter's turn to look worried. "Uh, err?"

"Yes?" asked Uncle Ben.

"You haven't been in any trouble, have you?" Aunt May asked hurriedly.

"No!" replied Peter. "I, uh, was--"

Uncle Ben flicked on the TV again.

Aunt May asked, "Did you get to Mrs. Smith's alright? You didn't get caught with the crowd in Manhattan with the flying thing, did you?"

Peter hurriedly said, "No, I would never-- huh? Flying thing--? Oh, yeah," he said, seeing a way out, "yeah, that thing was going crazy!" He hoped his mock acting could pull him out of this. After discovering his new powers, he had forgotten about Mrs. Smith's.

"But Mrs. Smith's isn't on the way to Manhattan," said Uncle Ben, anylyzing Peter's every word. "Is there something you need to tell us?"

"I, uh, I kinda forgot," Peter stammered. He knew it was unconvincing, but what else could he do?

"Forgot?" asked Uncle Ben. "How could you forget your errand?"

"Well, I was thirsty, so I stopped of for a Pepsi on the way there."

"And what does that have to do with the flying thing?" asked Aunt May.

Peter wanted to slap himself on the face. He had already forgotten his earlier excuse. "I, er, they, uh, had a TV, at the store-- Yeah, and I saw the glider story on the TV, so I wanted to go see it." He sighed to himself. He thought that would satisfy them.

"You put yourself in harm's way?" Aunt May almost screamed.

"Uh,-- No!" said Peter. "I didn't know it would be dangerous!"

"Peter, why don't you just go up to your room, until I can talk to you," said Uncle Ben.

Peter was shocked. "Are you serious? I'm fifteen years old!"

"I'm serious. Go."

Peter walked off to his room.

"I'm sure he had a hard week," said Aunt May. "What with the spider bite and all."

"Oh, I know he did," replied Uncle Ben. "I was bitten by one in fifth grade, and I was made fun of something awful. I can't even imagine what it'll be like in high school."

Was Peter the only one who payed attention in class? He sometimes wondered that. Here he was, paying careful attention to a lecture about adhesives that could be stretchy, when one phrase caught his attention. "It's almost like a spider's web." This delved Peter deeper into the lecture, because last night on his roof, he had learned that he couldn't spin his own web--and he had learned the hard way. "And if a spider could do it, why couldn't--"

"HHHHHAAAAUUUGHH!" Flash Thompson said into Peter's ear. "Oh, mommy, a mosquito bit me, HHHHAAAUUUGHHH!"

"Shut up, Flash." Peter was angry at being interupted during what he was listening to.

"HHHHAAAUUUGGGH!" said Flash again.

Peter was very irritated now. He had put up with this jerk when he didn't have super strength, and he wasn't about to take it now. "I said SHUT UP!" He grabbed Flash by the collar and shoved him into the wall. "Listen, jerkhole, I happened to be paying attention to this lecture, and I was liking it. But, now, since you've disturbed me, it's my turn to disturb you, you little--"

"Mr. Parker!" a stern voice called out. "I am very disappointed in you. Detention today after we finish this obviously delicate science lecture."

"But--!"

"And no buts. I don't need another Flash Thompson in my class." The teacher walked off.

Flash snickered.

"Listen, moron!" Peter said, turning back to Flash. "Today after I finish detention, meet me in the parking lot. We've got business to take care of."

Peter walked off, leaving Falsh slumped against a cheap Albert Einstien poster. Flash laughed.

He got up. How long had he been out? He had no idea. He picked up the equipment and he--crushed the control panel? Norman Osborn looked at himself.

"I think this deserves some deeper looking-into."

Peter actually had the best detention of his life. Since he hadn't listened earlier, he now had to listen to the full lecture again--in detail. He couldn't have been happier as he sat taking notes on the artificial "spider's web." But now detention was over. It was time for a fight.

Flash snickered when Peter walked over to the parking space he was at. "You actually showed up? Boy, I'm lookin' forward to this!" He made a fist with one hand, then smashed it into his other palm to clarify what he meant.

"Oh, shut up," said Peter.

"Make me," mocked Flash.

This was too much for Peter. He had been mocked by Flash since second grade, maybe before. It was time to fight back. He clenched his fists and ran towards Flash. He punched Flash in the teeth before Flash even knew what happened. Flash went down.


	4. Reimbursed

"You WHAT?" Aunt May's scream rang through the house.

Peter was ashamed of himself. "I--uh--it was an acci--it was only a little fight."

"FIGHT!" Aunt May was on the road to a sergeant's scream. "Why would you get into a fight?"

"Listen, Aunt May--" Peter stammered. "I--Flash was getting on my last nerves, and I just couldn't take it any more."

"You wait until I-- Hello, Ben? Guess what happened today at Midtown."

Peter looked down at his jeans until Aunt May was finished telling Uncle Ben about what happened.

"Your uncle says he'll be home as soon as he can get off," Aunt May spoke sharply to Peter.

"Great," Peter muttered to himself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

"Guess what I recieved at work today?" Uncle Ben asked.

"What?" asked Peter, squinting his eyes in hope that it wouldn't be about the fight.

"A 450 medical bill. Care to elaborate on that, Peter?"

"What would I know about it?"

"Well, it says we have to pay it since you broke Flash Thompson's jaw."

"I WHAT?"

"Yep."

Aunt May was shocked. "Oh, what will we do Ben? You barely make 400 a month!"

"I don't know," Uncle Ben sighed. "I guess I'll just have to pick up the slack."

Aunt May frowned. "No you don't! You're already overworked! I'll take a job somewhere."

Uncle Ben rose up from his chair. "No."

"What?"

"No. I said you won't take a job. And that's final."

"Ben. I hate being on the outs with you, but you need help. I'm going to the local employment agency tommorow."

Ben looked very mad, but could say nothing. Peter had watched all this silently, and now asked to be excused. His request was granted. He went down to his makeshift "lab." He had finally deciphered the way to make his new spider's web.

"I gotta help my family on this one."

"CRUSHER! CRUSHER!" The crowd's roar was deafening. They didn't know who the skinny kid in the red sweatshirt and ski mask was, but he was getting in the ring. Obviously, they wanted him to get pounded. He jumped around, taunting Crusher, without using language.

Crusher was tired of this. "Come here, you little squirt, 'cause I'm gonna--!"

He was cut off by a kick to the face. He went down with blood streaming from his mouth. "Uuugghhh-ahh--"

The announcer ran over to Peter in disbelief. "You--you-- Ladies and gentleman, you just witnessed the fall of CRUSHER HOGAN!" The crowd went wild.

"What on earth?" Uncle Ben leaned down towards the mail slot. There was an envelope under the door, full of money.

"Hey, May!"


End file.
